


Alone

by Sam_Kabaam



Series: Alone [1]
Category: The 100
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-19 16:58:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Kabaam/pseuds/Sam_Kabaam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus becomes injured after the Azgeda attack him and his troop, and he struggles to get home to Abby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is utter angst and I hope all of you dark-souled kabby shippers love it as much as I do because who doesn't like torture

Alone

Left. Right. Left. Right. The pattern was repeated over and over again. Left. Right. Left. Right. The beat of their hearts matching their steps. Left. Right. Left. Right. The burn in their legs taking their breath away. Left. Right. Left. Right. The sound of water came to their ears, as their weary spirits were lifted. 

A mountain stream flowed across the land, it's clear water singing a peaceful tune. Its presence brought the group to a halt.  
"Let's rest here for a little, it's time we take a break if we want to make it home in 3 days," said Marcus, weary and out of breath. Him and his team of 10 had gone on a trading mission to the floukru's (boat people) village. What was supposed to be a one week trip turned into two, and getting home to Abby was a priority to Marcus. He hadn't been away from her for this long since he had left to make peace with the grounders, and he thought that was long. 

The clear mountain stream flowed out of the rocks and down the steep slope of the Appalachians. The red cedar trees danced in the biting winter wind, as the mighty redwoods stood their ground, and watched over the timbers.  
The sun was absent, resting behind the clouds. 

Marcus lowered his canteen into the crisp, clean water. His mouth watering at the sight of a fresh drink he so desperately needed. Him and his outfit hadn't found a spot for water in hours, they were all weary. Sweat ran down their bodies and dirt stuck to every surface of their skin. Marcus knew every muscle in his body was sore, and they were screaming for rest. It was good they ran into water when they did, he didn't know if him and his team would have made it much longer. The cold has cause almost all the rivers and streams to freeze over, making liquid water scarce. 

Marcus looked for a spot to sit and rest a few moments. Perhaps a few minutes could evolve into a few more. The body of a fallen oak lay across the land, slowly rotting away in the cold winter days. He stood from the creek and slowly made his way to the fallen giant, his legs stiff from the chill. Others saw him do this, and joined him with ease. Marcus sat looking into the timbers, seeking Clarke. He had hoped they would run into her on their little journey. It was a long-shot, he knew. But, loosing hope was something he couldn't afford. Abby was only herself around him anymore, and when she was in doctor mode. Otherwise, all she could think of was Clarke, her excessive thoughts worried Marcus. To her, she was still her baby girl. 

Clarke, however, wasn't the only person Marcus had imagined to emerge from the forest. The Floukru warned him of the Azgeda, the ice nation.  
He was told they were ruthless, and vile. Killing for sport when looking for a game to play. They even killed some of their own, when innocence was involved.  
These warnings criss-crossed in his mind. Back and fourth and back and fourth, over and over again. They drove him mad. He wasn't about to have the blood of 15 soldiers on his hands. He was going to trek carefully.

"Let's move on, we don't want to linger to long," he said, standing from his section of log. Everyone let out a quiet groan, even Marcus wanted to whimper at his own remark. But still, they were 3 days from camp, with a long walk ahead of them.  
"McCoy, Watch the left. Manser, watch the right," the timbers were dangerous, and proper watchmen were always a careful precaution. Especially when Clarke and the Azgeda still lingered in his thoughts. 

Again, the beat began. Left. Right. Left. Right. The crowd didn't even want to think of the pattern, they were weary of walking. Left. Right. Left. Right. It burned their ears. Left. Right. Left. Right. As hours went on, it was gently washed from their hearing. The sound became just another part of nature. Left. Right. Left. Right. 

As minutes went by, all there was to do was stare into the trees. Marcus made quiet conversation with his fellow soldiers, as did others. They talked about what to do with their traded goods, improvements that could be made to camp, and every once in a while, a few comments about the beauty of their new world would be uttered. Many nights, Marcus secretly snuck from camp, to look at the Earth in the peaceful night. He's only ever admitted this to Abby, who was joyed to hear he actually appreciated their new life. He smiled at the thought of Abby, even though he probably looked crazy, he didn't care, it passed the time. 

The light of day began to dim faster than Marcus suspected, and camp would need to be set soon. Everyone was relieved when Kane stopped and said to pitch their tents. They stopped in a quiet grotto, a large wall of rock protected them from the wind. Fires were lit and meat was carefully warmed. By the time everyone's bellies were full and bodies settled, the party was the happiest they'd been in a long time. And to make things better, Marcus had allowed moonshine to be brought. He figured the cold wasn't going to be blocked by just their clothes, maybe a little alcohol could fix things. 

Drums were made from canteens, and sparks were built to bonfires. By the time the moon was high and blazing in the black sky, the soldiers were all intoxicated. Tripping over blades of grass and laughing at things as small as butterflies. They danced by the fires to the beat of the music, they looked like grounders themselves. Even Marcus was a little tipsy, not as bad as others, but he was drunk enough to stop worrying about the Azgeda, and Abby. His plan to save alcohol for warmth for 3 days backfired, but at least they were warm for the night. 

As the evening progressed, the soldiers gradually slowed their drinking and quieted down. Sleep overcame the men, and they quickly retired for the night. Marcus assigned five men on watch before he hid away in his makeshift home, carefully hanging a lamp from the ceiling.  
"Augh, dammit," Marcus growled at himself as he dug through his pack, worried he left his book at the village. 

It was a habit of his to sketch before sleeping. He managed to trade in a shirt for a pencil and sketch book, he never took it off him since, it was like a tattoo, permanent. Marcus filled it with drawings of Grass, and trees. Fish, and deer. Even flowers and sunsets. Anything he could sketch, anything that was new or beautiful to him was copied in his book. His favorite sketches were the ones of Abby. He could look at them for hours. They were, of course, not better than the real thing. Once he finally found the book, his heart was lifted from his chest. He flipped to his marked page and began to draw again. He missed Abby as he carefully drew each strand of her hair. She was beautiful. 

A sudden cry snapped Marcus out of his hypnotic state, as he could see liquid blow across his tent, leaving a striped shadow.  
"Attack! Were under atta-" a yell was cut short and replaced with a murderous scream. Marcus jumped from his bed, his book falling to the ground. Grabbing his gun, he ducked by his door, peering out. Others were not so smart, and ran from their tents, being shot down on the spot.  
"Shit," he whispered to himself.  
Marcus looked to the ground, thinking of a plan. Nothing sparked his mind. He knew the grounders weren't dumb, and most likely surrounded them from above the rock wall and trees. More screams filled his ears. He counted the death toll. Five men on watch dead, three men, running from their tents, dead. That left 3 men breathing, including himself, and eight men whose blood was slowly being soaked into the ground.  
"FIRE!" Someone screamed from across camp. Lonely bullets bit through the air, all of them missing their ghostly targets. Marcus couldn't see the face of the man who fired, but; he could see him being dragged from his tent by an Azgeda, his head sliced clean off. Marcus aimed his gun at the grounder. Pulling the trigger, he fell to the ground, still. 

Marcus immediately regretted his decision. His position being spotted. Breathing jaggedly, he closed his eyes, and counted to three. He knew he was the only one left. Only one still breathing. There was no hope for him now. With a jolt, he stormed out his door. Turning sharply, he bee lined to the trees. His life flashed before his eyes, he knew he was a dead man walking, but; he wasn't going down without a fight. Reaching the trees, a shadow caught his eye. He flipped his gun in front of his chest, using it as a shield as a sword came crashing down. Marcus pushed his gun out, hitting the grounder in the head, causing him to fall back. At his moment of weakness, Kane shot a bullet through his brain, finishing him. He immediately began to run for his life again, once the job was finished. 

He thought of Abby as he ran. Her golden hair and sweet smile, warm hands and soft skin. He knew he would never see her again. Never get to say good morning, when they awaken in bed together. Never get to say I love you, when they snuggle by the fire. Never get to say goodbye. 

He ran until he couldn't any longer, his legs dropping from under him. On his knees, he looked to the sky, and closed his eyes. He could hear footsteps behind him, he could sense his time was slowly shrinking. Marcus Kane wasn't much of a religious man, unlike his mother. But; even so, he couldn't help but close his eyes and pray, pray that no one would come to the same fate as him and his troop did. Pray that Clarke would come home. Pray that Abby would be ok. 

The steps were so close, they were directly behind him now. He squeezed his eyes tighter, preparing for certain doom. It was unlike Marcus to just sit and do nothing, to just sit and die and not try harder. To fight. But what could he do? He was done for. Instead of a sword to the neck, however, a hand gripped his hair. Yanking him back with such force, he couldn't help but scream in pain. The grounder held him by the hair, his neck in a position where If moved, could easily be snapped.  
"What is your name," spoke the man, his deep voice adding to his intimidating look.  
Marcus stared him in the eyes, saying nothing. It wasn't long before a fist came crashing against his face, drawing blood from his mouth and nose.  
"I ask again. What is your name."  
"M-Marcus," he stuttered, small droplets of blood shooting from his mouth.  
Marcus had barely enough time to process before a sharp pain was felt in his head. He fell to the ground, his vision dimming. He gave in, laying limply on the cold, winter ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus awakens, to find himself alone, and hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so bad at writing (also at punctuation). So I'm probably going to totally bomb this story, sorry. But I tried my hardest to make it interesting so, enjoy! Also, I'm a little busy in school so I'll try to have the next chapter up ASAP.

Alone Chapter II

Alone, and dying, all Marcus could see was red. It blurred his vision, leaving him blind. He could see his breath as he inhaled jaggedly. He moaned as the bark of the tree he sat against rubbed his fresh wounds. The wood tearing at his flesh. His mind raced around what had occurred the night before, he tried so desperately to remember. Moonshine, Dancing, Sketching, Screaming, Death, Running, Hitting, Lashing, Laughing, Blood. As the memory's returned, he shook his head weakly, trying to forget again. 

A shooting pain traveling through his body brought him back to the world. He rolled his head back, letting out a weak yell. He wanted to die. Bleed out right where he sat. But he decided against it, he couldn't quit now. Weakly, and slowly, he brought his hand to his eyes, wiping away the blood that was splattered across his face. The blood in his mouth poisoned his tastebuds, he wanted to gag. Lowering his arm to the ground, he lifted his head to inspect the damage a second time. His bare chest was sliced open, with welts across his stomach from where hot metal was pressed against him. He didn't even have to look at his back to know it suffered the same casualties. 

Daylight began to dim as the setting sun disappeared behind the horizon, the air becoming colder. The birds slowly became quieter until they were no more. Marcus knew he had been out for hours, yet he was still tired. He leaned his head back against the tree, and closed his eyes. Sighing, he tried to ignore the pain, an occasional moan escaped his lips when the sting was to great to disregard. He tried to focus on something else, besides the discomfort. Listening to the leaves, he tried to relax. He became numb from the cold, his jacket thrown to far for him to reach. At least it helped his agony. He tried listening to the leaves. Listening as they rustled in the wind, flowing gently though the air. Sometimes, an owls cry would reach his ears, calming him more. His quiet concentration soothed him. The longer he sat, the more tired he became. He slowly sank, his body falling limp, as he gently fell into a deep sleep. 

 

"tie em kom the tri, teik's hear em scream (Tie him to the tree, let's hear him scream.)," ordered the grounder to another, his eyes showing pure hatred as the fire reflected in them.  
Marcus lay on the ground, half conscious. Although he understood trigedasleng well, his ears were ringing around his head, he couldn't hear a thing. He grunted as he was lifted from the ground by a strong force, and shoved against the tree. Marcus was weak and confused, he had no strength and was in no position to fight back, his hands were quickly bound.  
"Do osir don anymore rope? (Do we have anymore rope?)," asked the grounder as he finished binding Marcus's wrists.  
"No," replied his friend, "ba osir don emo (but we have these)," he reached out his hand, revealing two nails.  
The grounder nodded and turned, holding Marcus's hands firmly above his head, and against the bark. Marcus's eyes were barely open, but he could feel the nail against his hand, and closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. With a jolt he shuddered, screaming into the frosty air, small tears coming to his eyes. He could feel the nail being pushed through his hand, blood running down his arm. The grounder positioned the next nail, and pushed it through his other hand. Marcus held the same reaction, his screams tearing through the blackness of night. 

The grounder let go his wrist, as Marcus's legs gave out from under him, all his weight resting against the nails in his hands. His breathing was heavy and jagged. Abby coursed through his mind, he tried to think happy thoughts, warm thoughts.  
"Abby," Marcus whispered under his breath, "Abby."

The grounders ripped his shirt and jacket from his torso, revealing his skin. From their belts, they both drew whips, stained red with blood.  
"me first, ai want kom be the won kom make the first scars (Me first, I want to be the one to make the first scars)," said the grounder who nailed Marcus's hands to the tree.  
Pulling his arm as far back as he could, he threw it forward. Marcus watched as the whip sliced through the air. He closed his eyes right before the rope ripped open his flesh."

 

 

Marcus's eyes opened with a jolt. His body shook, either from the cold, pain, or dream. It was nearly daybreak. Fog wrapped the forest in an eerie blanket, as birds began to awaken from the cold night. Frost lightly coated the ground in a thin sheet, the frozen water glittering in the suns first rays. Marcus recalled his dream, his bound wrists and nailed hands. He lifted his arms, opening his fingers in front of his face, staring through the holes in his palms. He let them fall to the ground carelessly. 

After a while of just sitting, trying to stand sounded appealing to Marcus. He moved his hands as they pressed firmly to the ground. As he pulled his back from the trunk of the oak, his blood caused him to stick against the bark. It pulled at his wounds, causing him more pain.  
Using the tree to help him stand, he crawled slowly from the ground. He put all his weight on the tree as he bent over the trunk. His legs throbbed, but still, he stood. His stomach burned, he felt sick. Closing his eyes, Marcus counted to 3, taking deep breaths. It didn't help, he began to cough up blood. His throat burned as he released the contents of his stomach. 

Once finished, he calmed down. Out of breath, sweat running down his face, he stood up straight. Taking one foot in front of the other, he stumbled to the next tree, back towards camp. He slowly made his way from tree to tree, falling only a few times. The leaves broke beneath his feet, blood trailing behind him. He moaned when his head hit against a branch. He slowed his pace, marching along slowly.  
The smell of smoke and burning plastic reached his nose. He knew he was close to camp, as he passed the dead grounder he carelessly shot in the skull, his eyes rested open, glassed over. Marcus stared at them, as they looked out into nothing, into the void. Turning away, he kept stumbling forward, his stomach being churned again when he saw the grizzly remains of camp. Charred bodies, what was left of men who were burned alive. The head of a soldier was left on a stake, his eyes ripped from his sockets, and spine still connected to his upper skull. The grounders took time to wrap the spinal cord around the staff, for any man left alive to see. 

Marcus turned his attention before he became sick again. His eyes laid upon his tent, where another soldier lay, his stomach sliced open, and organs spilled across the ground. Blood splattered across his tent. Slowly, he inched forward, towards what was his makeshift home. Most the plastic was burned and melted, as was the contents inside. His thoughts went to his beloved book. He fell to his knees and dug through the wreckage, his eyes scanning the ground. He finally spotted it, resting against his ruined canister. Grabbing the papers, he noted it suffered small damage, with only its corners burned. 

He flipped frantically through the pages until he landed on a picture of Abby. He fell from his knees until he was completely sitting on the ground. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stared at the only person that kept him from killing himself here and now. He was determined to see her again. After all they've been through, he wasn't going to die like this.  
Marcus became sick again. Everything happened so fast, everything was blurred together. It hit him suddenly that he would not be making it back to Abby, not in the state he's in. He needed help, and fast, but; it was not coming. It would take a miracle for someone to find him. Leaning against the burned wreckage, Marcus sat, and again, looked into the sky. Then he screamed, yelling at the sky. He's held this in for to long, he let it build up in him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Marcus knew the "why me" card did not apply to him. He knew he deserved this painful death, those painful memories, and painful scars. His scream quieted, leaving the forest silent and peaceful once more. He lowered his head to the ground.  
"I love you, Abby," he whispered. He knew it was stupid, but; if he kept saying it, over and over, maybe he could believe she really heard him. He wasn't sure how long he said it, how many times he said it, but he didn't care. He repeated it over and over again. His mind etched out everything but his own words.  
His absence of reality faulted him. He was so caught up listening to his own words he didn't hear the footsteps coming closer. Left. Right. Left. Right. They came nearer, louder. Left. Right. Left. Right. He thought it was his own imagination, his own mind trying to ease his passing. Left. Right. Left. Right. Marcus's vision became blurry, he slowly kept bleeding out. Left. Right. Left. Right. Stop. A shadow passed over his eyes, a blurry figure stood before him. His mind told him it was an angel, but the possibility quickly left him. After all he's done, he didn't deserve an angel to hold him in his darkest hour.  
"Please," he muttered, "help."  
The shadow knelt down grabbing his hand with a gentle touch that calmed Marcus. His vision darkened, sleep overcoming him. He could hear a faint murmur, a voice, reaching to him, but he didn't understand. His eyes rolled behind his head as he finally gave in to the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus receives medical attention, before he's on the run, again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Aileen_ONeill for editing my chapter, and thank you everyone else for reading my story! Really hope you enjoy it and I hope to have next chapter up by tomorrow or Monday!

Alone Chapter III

"Kane," a faint voice reached out to his ears, "Kane," it repeated.   
His hearing was foggy, and sight blurred, confusion arose in him. Fear hit his body. As he tried to lift his hand to his head, chains bound to his wrists held him back. Fear became mixed into his body. His thoughts went to the night before, or the night before the last? He didn't know how long ago was his suffering, but he was determined to not let it happen again.

As Marcus came to his senses, his vision became clearer. He could make out a person, with long golden hair and dark clothing. His first thought went to Abby. 

"Abby?" He muttered, his voice creaky and faint.   
A wet cloth came to his forehead. He calmed down a little bit. Of course his captors wouldn't do things like so, would they?  
As moments passed, and his eyes adjusted, he could finally make out his keeper. Her face was fearless, her eyes breath taking. Her golden hair hung down her shoulders, laying gently against her back. 

"Clarke?" Marcus asked, it had been so long since he had seen her, he almost didn't recognize her.  
She smiled knowing he still had the ability to recognize people's faces. Marcus tried sitting up, but was forced back by the forgotten chains on his wrists. 

"Oh, sorry," said Clarke sympathetically, "you were scratching at your wounds."

Marcus almost forgot about the fact that his wounds were still fresh. He lifted his head noting his chest and stomach were carefully wrapped in bandages. 

"Here," said Clarke grabbing a small key from the dresser besides them, "Just don't scratch at them." Within moments, the chains were released from his wrists.   
As Marcus put his hands beside him to help him stand, he quickly pulled them back. Looking at his hands, he saw small bandages wrapped around his palms. 

Clarke could see in his eyes what he remembered from many nights before. The nails ripping through his skin, the lash upon his flesh. The burns seared permanently to his body. 

Escaping his haunting thoughts, Marcus looked up to Clarke, staring at her with wide, darkened eyes. Clarke didn't know Kane well, or really even considered him a 'friend' but more of an 'acquaintance.' However, his eyes told her a story that broke her heart. 

"Thank you," he said, his voice sounding almost like a plea, "thank you."

Clarke gave him a smile and a nod, nothing more. She didn't really know why she didn't say anything else. She'd just been away from people so long, she had forgotten how to act. 

Looking around the room, Marcus figured they were in Clarke's home. It was a small cave, with a wide opening towards the front, allowing the person inside to see out across a small pond, connected to a stream. A small flame was made in the center of the floor, with small, makeshift lanterns hanging from the rocky ceiling. Out of the wall was a carved table, holding tools, books, and other objects; including sketching utensils.   
The home was small, but it was shelter, and; better than nothing. 

Clarke turned and bent down towards the fire, adding small twigs to build its strength.   
Marcus watched as she carefully fed it each stick. 

"How long have you lived here?" He asked, guessing the answer was around four months.

"Just moved in," she said, "I used to live by the eastern sea, near the floukru. I was driven out from forest fires." 

"Ah, sorry to hear that," Marcus replied as he sat up, turning his body so that his boots touched the floor. Adding weight to his feet, a small gasp emerged from his mouth.   
Clarke, hearing his moan, turned her head. Abby had taught her well, and she knew he shouldn't be standing. 

"Wait," she said jumping from the fire and to Marcus, who was surprised at her sudden movements, "it's not good for you to stand, you lost a lot of blood."

"Clarke," he said, giving her a look of annoyance, "please, I'm fine."

"No, you're not," she said, "and you know it," turning around, she continued to feed the flames. 

Sighing, Marcus took weight off his feet, and held himself in a sitting position. Clarke was right, he was in no position to argue about his state. He leaned back a little, so his back rested against the smooth, cold, wall. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the fire, and birds that sang, the crickets that chirped. It calmed him, brought him peace he so desperately needed. 

Clarke grabbed a book from her table, and went to where Marcus sat alone.   
"Here," she said, holding the pages in front of him. 

Marcus opened his eyes, looking down to the object she held in front of her, "my book!" He smiled, surprised by the gesture. He flipped through the pages, quickly taking in each drawing and entry.   
Clarke tried leaving him to his excitement. As she turned around to walk away, she was stopped when he spoke to her. 

"Why did you help me?" He said, "for the things I have done, I do not deserve help, especially from you."

Clarke was silent for a little, "because you've changed. And, you are one of my people."

"Does that mean you're coming home?" asked Marcus, eager for her response. However, he heard nothing from her but silence.   
"Well, I guess I know the answer then," he said, wishing he never asked. 

"I'm sorry," Clarke said, her voice sounding almost like regret. 

"She misses you, you know," Marcus said, "Abby misses you."

"If you're playing the guilt card then I can say this right now, fuck you, Marcus Kane."

"I'm just saying!" He laughed at her words, "she hasn't been the same since you left. Unless she is playing her role as doctor or attending to important business, she barely talks or eats," he hoped the truth he spoke would help Clarke in changing her mind. "Besides," he began again, "winter's here, how long do you think you'll last?"

Guilt coursed through Clarke, her mother was there when she needed her, now she had to be there when her mother needed her. But, she couldn't go. Mount Weather still haunted her thoughts and dreams. What she did, could never be forgiven and forgotten, at least for her.   
"Fine, just please think about it?" Marcus asked, hoping her answer to be a yes.   
"Fine," was all she said before she turned away, their conversation clearly over. 

The few days that followed were slow and boring to Marcus. Clarke had forced him to lay in bed all day, 'resting' where in reality all he did was sit and stare at the ceiling. Every once in a while, Clarke would come and change his bandages, and remove some stitches from his smaller cuts. His body still ached, but he got used to the pain, and easily, It went to be almost unnoticeable to him. 

Clarke felt he asked if he could get up at least 20 times a day. Her answer was always the same, demanding, "no."   
He tried sketching to pass time, but; his inability to go outside drained him of inspiration. So, instead, he flipped through the pages, stopping at pictures of his mother, and Abby.   
As he sat one day, staring at a picture of Abby's beautiful smile, did he realize it's been four days, he should have arrived at camp yesterday. His whole body jumped with a feeling of something only described as anxiousness. What did she think happened to them? A whole group of trained soldiers gone, missing, maybe dead. The woods were dangerous, everyone knew it, but; were they dangerous enough for their to be no survivors? If Marcus ever did make it home, he knew it was going to be near impossible to explain to everyone that his men died because they were too intoxicated to walk in a straight line, let alone to shoot a gun correctly. If only he had a radio, something to let her know he was ok. Marcus knew he was lucky, and felt sympathy for the widows whose lovers would not be returning. To him, the whole thing was his fault. 

It was only a few hours later when Clarke came to him, handing him his jacket.   
"You can get up now, I think it's time you practice some walking."

Marcus wasn't this happy since he was drunk, the night of the killing. He sat up in a sitting position, swinging his legs so that his boots rested flat on the ground again, and slipped his coat around his arms. Clarke reached her hand to him, helping him, giving him the support he needed. He held it, firmly but gently, with a nod of his head as a thanks. He put his free hand against his hard bed, putting weight against it, and pulling on Clarke's hand. With a quick push of his legs, he stood straight and tall. A small pain surged through his body, then quickly died, he felt nothing. Clarke linked her arm with his, her other hand reached gently behind his back, helping give him support. 

"Ready?" She said. 

"Ready."

With one foot in front of the other, they both circled the fire, slowly at first, then quicker as he became used to the movement.   
Without warning, Clarke stopped him, and slowly, released her grip.   
Marcus was hesitant at first, not knowing how well his movements would be by himself. He didn't wait too long, before his legs slowly moved forward, one foot in front of the other. He made it around the fire a few times, before his bad leg got the best of him. Clarke saw him beginning to struggle, and grabbed him again, guiding him to sit down again. 

"Thank you," said Marcus, as he rested once more. 

"You did good, we will practice tomorrow," and, without another word, she turned and went away from the cave, leaving him alone, again.   
Marcus smiled and shook his head at her sudden departure.   
The Sun's red glow streamed into the caves opening, night was almost upon them. Marcus laid down, preparing for rest. Sleepiness lay on him like a blanket. He drifted off, unsure wether Clarke made it back before the sun was gone or not. 

"Kane," whispered Clarke, "Kane. Kane wake up," she gently hit his shoulder.   
His eyes opened slowly. Half awake, he slowly whispered something to Clarke and closed his eyes again, clearly showing he wasn't in the mood to be disturbed. 

"MARCUS," she whispered loudly.   
His eyes opened fully, staring at Clarke, he whispered loudly back, a small hint of anger and annoyance in his voice, "WHAT."

"Get up, get up," she repeated grabbing his shoulders and pulling him forward so that he was forced to sit up. He quietly winced as his wounds were suddenly pulled.   
"I said get up!" She grabbed his torso and lifted him up, he followed her pull and stood, grabbing her hands and removing them from him. 

"Clarke," he said confused, as she set her hands on his back pushing him towards the door.   
"Clarke, stop," said he, stopping in his tracks, and turning to her in the eyes, "what are you doing, what's wrong?" 

"The Azgeda," She yelled, "they're coming, you have to get out of here," she handed him his pack, "here, I put enough food for a week, and your sketch book." Grabbing his gun, hidden under a skin, she handed it over to him. They both stepped towards the door, Marcus, with a small limp in his leg.  
As they made their way outside, the cold took away Marcus's breath. The air grabbed his lungs, and the wind pulled razors through his brown hair. 

"Head north, until you reach the river. Cross it, and follow it east, it will lead you to the lake. From there you'll know where to go," she told him as she followed him north, into the woods. 

"What about you?" 

"I'll lead them south, don't worry, just go. And, Kane; say hi to mom and Bellamy for me?" She asked.

"I'll be damned if I don't. Thank you, Clarke."

Clarke nodded and smiled, turning away before Marcus could say another word. 

"Clarke, wait," he yelled, but she didn't listen, and began running back. 

They were coming. Marcus turned north and ran as quick as his legs, and wounds, allowed him. Left. Right. Left. Right. His legs quickened their pace until he was in a full on sprint, he was not to be taken down by them again.   
He felt nothing, not his legs, his wounds, not even the wind as it hit him like needles. He ran for a long while, as fast as he could. He ran until his legs ached so much, he was forced to stop. He stood, as if he was nailed to the ground. Nothing, an eerie silence left the air empty. The only noise was the breathing that surged, heavily, through his chest. 

Then a cry, loud and piercing, swirled in the wind. It began as one, then; more. One by one, new cries came to his ears. Fear; painful, striking, fear, bit his stomach. He grabbed his gun, and began running again, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his legs. Marcus was not alone, wolves were upon him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus comes closer to home, with trouble in his wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter, and thank you again for reading! Next chapter will be a little more light-hearted, but; not for long.
> 
> Pain. Is. Coming.

Alone Chapter IIII

Left. Right. Left. Right. The pattern was repeated over and over again. Left. Right. Left. Right. The beat of his heart matched the beat of his steps. Left. Right. Left. Right. The burn in his legs taking his breath away. Left. Right. Left. Right. His throat burned, aching for water.

The wolves cried, their shadows running through the winter timbers. They circled Marcus, closing in around him as they ran. He was forced to come to a halt, the alpha, stared at him with hungry eyes. 

Spinning, he looked in every direction, going over every escape route, to no avail. His only chance of survival came down to one way, the way he wished not to take. He cocked his gun, and; turning north, aimed it at the alpha. With a quick squeeze of his finger, the gun screamed like thunder, bullets of lightning, running through the frosty air. A cry like none other, coursed through the winter breeze; the cry of death. The alpha fell to the ground, blood flying from his wound. It stained the leaves with droplets of red. 

The pack howled together, the same note, the same time. The alpha quieted his whimper, until it was no more. A snarl to his left caught Marcus's attention. He flipped his gun to his chest, using it as a shield as the sharp teeth of the canine came crashing down. Marcus pushed his gun out, hitting the wolf in the chest, pushing him back. As the wolf lay on the ground, wriggling to stand, Marcus aimed his gun. Another flash of lighting sent chunks of the hounds brain to clump to the forest floor. Two down, three to go. 

The remaining wolves backed down, but weren't going to give up. Marcus took his chance and began to run again, heading north. 

'I'm dead,' he thought to himself. 

His leg grew more painful with each step he took. But; he couldn't stop, the wolves were still at his heels. 

A while blur came into his vision. At first he thought his sight was bad, then he remembered Clarke's instructions. 

'Follow the river to the lake,' Marcus repeated in his mind. 

Surely the river was frozen from the harsh winter weather, but; how thick was the ice? As the wolves gained on him, he tried to think of a plan. Marcus had one in mind, but; it was dangerous, and could not only result in the wolves deaths, but his own.   
As he came closer to the river, his mind found no other way, he had only one option.   
"God help me," he told himself, as he began running across the ice. His idea went as planned, the wolves ended their run, at the edge of the river. 

Marcus stopped and turned, watching as the dogs took a few steps onto the ice, and quickly jumped to land again. He smiled when he realized he was safe, but; celebrated to soon. A growl echoed across the river, deep and determined. The largest of the remaining canines began to creep across the river, slowly picking up pace.   
"Shit."

Forgetting he was on ice, Marcus tried to run, falling to the cold surface. The wolf took its chance, jumping onto Marcus, it sunk it's teeth into his shoulder. He hollered in pain and anger. He flung around onto his back, hitting the wolf with his elbow. The beast loosened its grip, but refused to let go. Balling his hand to a fist, he hit the wolf with as much force as he could muster. Over and over, he beat at its head. The canine yelped in agony, it's claws scraping at Marcus's shirt and skin, causing more wounds.

A loud crack rang through the ice, Marcus delayed his next blow, hesitating enough for the wolf to escape his grasp. It didn't make it very far. 

Marcus's eyes widened, he knew there was a good chance the ice break, but; so easily? As the beast attempted running to land, it fell straight down, into the icy waters. Disappearing under the ice. The two wolves on land howled together, and turned away from the river, clearly giving up on dinner. 

Marcus moved so he squatted on the balls of his feet, then; slowly, stood. His breathing was heavy, his hands shook. He didn't know what to do. He could run, or walk. Either way, he had a small chance of making it. 

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, opening his eyes as he exhaled, he was determined. He carefully lifted his bad leg, and took a step. He repeated the pattern with his other foot, limping as his body weight was pushed down upon his bad leg. A quiet snap sounded, the ice was thin. Taking another step, his foot slipped into the water. A small gasp of surprise escaped his throat. He didn't stay to see if he would sink any lower, Marcus jolted his foot out of the river and began to run. Each step he took, a crack echoed. His heart raced. Land came closer and closer. The ice broke more and more. He was so close to safety, the ice cracked under his feet, the icy waters sloshing beneath him. Marcus couldn't register what had happened before he found himself waist deep in the chilling river. The water took his breath away, it felt like needles on his legs. His feet kicked and scraped the bottom of the river, as quick as he could, he ran through the water, onto the safety of dry land. 

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ." was all Marcus could utter as he laid on his back, along the banks of the river. He didn't know how long he sat, trying to catch his breath and calm down. 

Marcus sat up with a jolt, wincing at the sharp pain in his ribs. It was already day break, 'great, I fell asleep.' He thought to himself. 

Standing from the ground, he tried his hardest not to look at the frozen waters, the water now iced over again. Marcus did a check, making sure he still had his pack and gun.   
'Follow the river to the lake,' he thought, 'ya very specific.'

He hoped his walk wouldn't be more than 2 days.   
His now opened wounds bled through his clothes. Marcus wanted to get a move-on, he decided he would re bandage them later.   
Taking his walking slow at first, he sped up with each step he took. 

The frozen river was hard to miss, the ice sparkled in the Suns first rays. The rest of the Earth was left dark and barren. Few birds sang and few squirrels ran. There wasn't much of anything to focus on. The silence of the forest left a heavy weight on Marcus's chest. He felt scared, pained, and alone.  
Abby was all he wanted. He just wanted to touch her golden hair and see her warm smile, feel her soft skin. He just wanted to know she was there. He just wanted Abby. Marcus felt he saw her in everything, in the leaves, the grass, he even thought he heard her calling his name, whereas, in reality, it was just the wind.

Marcus snapped to reality once more as he came upon a sight he vowed to never forget. The mountains splitting gave him view of his new world. The crashing sound of the river, plummeting down, filled his ears. Cold, winter wind hit his body, causing his wet clothes to become more cold. The world beyond him was immense. And, in the distance, a lake, shimmering under the Suns rays, the tail of the river trailing behind it. 

 

Marcus released his stare, he would have time to sightsee later. For the time being, however, he needed to bandage up his wounds. 

Getting out of the wind seemed like a good idea first, and so he began his decent down the cliffs. A trail, obviously put together by humans, winding down the rocky slabs. 

The constant step downward hurt Marcus's leg even more, he wondered if something else may be wrong with it. 

It wasn't long before Marcus came to the ground, he looked up at the cliff, seeing as to where he stood a few moments before. Walking to the river again, the water was loud. He decided to trek a little more along the water before he stopped for the night.  
The river began flowing to where the sun dies, towards the lake.   
'If I'm fast, I'll be there by tomorrow,' he thought, the subject of home brought a smile to his face. 

Noticing the sound of the falls, gone from his hearing, he found a log to sit upon, and tend to his sores. 

His leg was first, Marcus carefully pulled down one side of his pants, to where a large portion of his thigh was mutilated. The area was purple and black. Seeing as he could do nothing to the bruise at the moment, Marcus pushed his leg back through the fabric. 

Next, his chest and back. Carefully removing his jacket and bloody shirt, his wounds were torn open. Streaks of dried blood were evident down his stomach.   
Taking bandages from his pack, he wrapped them as best he could around his body, burying the dirty ones, to leave little evidence that he was there.

 

By now, the Suns final rays had disappeared beyond the horizon. The land was dark, and quiet. Marcus became cold, but; he wasn't going to risk building a fire. Laying on the ground, he looked to the stars. His whole life, he's only ever seen stars, but; still, they brought him comfort. Marcus looked to them, as he lay there, alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus gets back into the swing of things, but not for long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really long chapter, sorry! Anyway, hope you like it and I will have chapter 6 up soon!

Alone Chapter IIIII

Marcus marched through the timber in a zombie-like state. The soft wind and flowing water bringing comfort to his mind. The sun was barely above the sky line, a new day was approaching. 

Marcus wanted to be home as soon as possible, just the thought of Camp made him want to jump around in happiness. With these thoughts In His mind, it was hard for him to sleep, nightmares haunted his mind, and resulted in him leaving an hour before the sun even arose. 

He didn't know when, but; sometime during his walk, the cold didn't seem to cling to him like it once did, he was actually quite warm. It was nice to focus on other things besides the freezing temperature that pierced his hide like needles, so; he didn't think anything of it. 

Marcus managed to reach the lake by noon, surprised at his fast pace. The water was iced over, and the mountains in the distance were covered in snow. The trees, however, were still full of greenery.   
Not wanting to waste time, Marcus began to trek to the other side of the lake. It wasn't too big, but; it wasn't small. 

As he walked, he thought about what he was going to say when he got to camp, how he would put the situation to sound the least terrible, what he would say to Abby, what he would say to Bellamy about Clarke. 

He knew Bellamy would be mad at him for not making Clarke come home, but; what could he do? He was basically dying, and when he left, let's just say he doesn't remember half the stuff he even did. 

Letting out a sigh of frustration, he turned his attention to nature once more, and decided he would think later, his mind was already fried and hurting. Marcus slowed his pace when his leg began to burn. Falling to the ground, he grasped his thigh in pain.   
"Damn it."  
He looked up, seeing he was so close to the other side, he couldn't stop and rest now. He stood up, putting all his weight on his good leg, then, took a step. His limp was bad. However, Marcus was determined, and with all his effort, kept walking towards home. 

Clouds began to come in from the west, and the wind gently picked up its pace. A storm was coming, no doubt. Camp was closer than ever now. 

Only a patch of forest, and field of grass, was in between Marcus, and home. He stopped at the tree line. Leaning against a trunk to rest his leg. He knew this forest, these trees and paths. And he thought he'd never see them again.  
"I'm back Bitches," he said to himself, as he took his weight from the bark, and began his walk once again, into the familiar territory. 

The sun rose higher, up into the sky. It's light unable to hit the ground. The timbers were surprisingly thick for the winter months, so, the forest floor remains shady and dark. Marcus's pace was faster than before, his eagerness to get home, drove his mind forward, and the pain in his leg back. 

The walk from the lake to camp was a stretch, but; he was determined to get there before the sun was below the horizon. Getting shot by his own people, in the last moments of his journey, didn't appeal to him

Slowing down, he came to a sight he really thought he'd never see, home. Taking his steps slowly, he was cautious not to be hit. 

"Don't shoot," he hollered, repeating what he had done when coming home from the peace treaty. 

"Hold your fire," he yelled once he came into view of the guards, their guns that were once raised, slowly lowered to the ground. 

He prepared to say something, but; nothing came from his mouth. His legs began to feel thin, rubbery. His breath, became heavier. His people became blurry, soon, everything went dark. His bad leg gave out from under him, he fell to the ground, unconscious. 

 

 

Marcus cried out, his body shacking.  
A familiar voice reached out to him "hey," she whispered softly stroking her fingers through his hair, repeating her words, "hey." 

Marcus froze, he recognized that voice, he's heard it before. He slowly opened his eyes, wanting to cry at the sight before him.   
Abby sat next to his bed, still stroking his black hair. Her dark eyes looked into his, silent tears falling from them. Her golden hair put up nicely in a ponytail. Abby smiled at Marcus, causing more tears to fall down her cheeks. 

"Hey," he whispered to her, extending his arm to wipe away her tears. He tried sitting up a little, his hand resting on her cheek, "hey, it's ok." 

"No I-I thought you were dead," she whispered, almost like she didn't want those words to ever be uttered. 

"But I'm not, and that's all that matters now."

Abby smiled, grabbing his hand.   
"I love you," she said   
"I love you."  
Both smiled at each other's remarks. 

"How do you feel?" asked Abby, moving back a few inches to look over his chest and stomach again. 

"Actually, I don't feel anything."

"Good, that means the numbness shot is kicking in. Your leg is really bruised, as is the rest of your body. And you took on some nasty hypothermia." 

Marcus took note that he couldn't feel it move from his neck down.   
"Well, this is fun."

Abby smiled, "you should go back to sleep."

"Will you stay with me?" Marcus asked. 

"Please, now that you're back, I'll never leave you."

Marcus gently fell asleep, as Abby sat on a chair next to him, her head on his chest, gently stroking his hair. 

 

Marcus awoke to voices around his head. 

"We don't know what happened, for all we know, everyone could still be alive."  
"But they're not."   
"We don't know that."   
"He's covered in scars, and collapsed of hypothermia in front of everybody."  
"It still says nothing."

Opening his eyes as much as he could, he turned his head, following the voices.   
"Why must we talk now, he's still unconscious, or does that still say nothing?"   
"Shut up, Blake." 

Marcus planned to stay quiet, watch the conversation play out. Instead, he found his hand putting pressure to his thigh, and the other over a large scar across his stomach. Now he knew why he was numbed. 

"Oh great, you woke him up."  
"Oh my, I'm sorry, do you want me to kneel down in front of him and pray?"   
"Raven, Bellamy. Stop arguing."

Marcus took his hand slowly off his thigh. It wasn't long before he put pressure on it again. 

"He's still in pain," said Lincoln, "we should wait to have this conversation when he is better." 

Marcus turned his head, confused, he looked around the room. Abby stood in the room, talking to Raven and Bellamy. Octavia and Lincoln stood off to the side, staying quiet, as well as Jackson and Sinclair. 

His hearing was a little flat, however; he knew a heated argument broke loose when the room became filled with hollering. Marcus sat up as far as he could, wincing at the pain. Once he was completely sat up, he leaned his right side against the cold, metal wall. 

"Hey," Marcus sneered, weakly, but as loud as he could, "stop your arguing, it will get you nowhere."

Everyone obeyed his request, their mouths closing.   
"Sorry, we all just have different opinions on what happened, even though we don't know anything," said Octavia, glaring at her brother and Raven.  
"And we can talk later," said Abby, "for now you need rest."

Marcus was done with staying quiet, "I'm sorry Abby, but to Hell with rest. The blood of 10 soldiers is on my hands. I'll tell you what happened, now or never."

Abby was silent for a few moments, staring at him. Others would think she was glaring, but Marcus knew her look was nothing but a sign of fear. She released her gaze, a clear sign of approval that he could speak. 

"Thank you," Spoke Marcus.   
He went on to tell his story. How him and his soldiers got intoxicated with moonshine, how he was tortured for sport at the hands of the Azgeda. As he spoke of his interactions with Clarke, he met his gaze with Bellamy's and Abby's. Bellamy's face showing no change of emotion. Abby, however, looked as if a weight was taken off her chest. Marcus told his story right up to the point where he lost consciousness in the field, his meeting with Abby, kept to himself. 

"Always knew the Azgeda were ruthless people, killing for sport. Didn't know they tortured," said Lincoln. 

"This is a problem," said Bellamy, trying not to bring up Clarke, "what if they begin taking more people, or coming onto our land?" 

"We could set-up a meeting," suggested Raven. 

"They don't sound like the kind of people to form meetings," said Sinclair, "we barely got them to come to Ton DC, and after that, I don't think they'll ever be meeting with our people again."

Everyone nodded in agreement. 

"We could just make our boundaries known," said Octavia,"they come to close, we shoot at their feet a little, we give signs that this is our land, not theirs." 

"That's an idea we could put into consideration," said Abby, "but what if they take it the wrong way, what will we do then? We can't fight them, we've lost to many men and resources."

"We could do nothing," said Marcus. 

"What do you mean 'do nothing,' ten men are dead, you almost died, we can't just forgive and forget," said Bellamy in a rant,"And God knows where Clarke is right now, since you didn't care what happened to her, you just left."

And there it was, Bellamy's wrath. Marcus knew it was coming, he was prepared to take whatever Bellamy said. 

"I didn't just leave," Marcus responded, "I didn't know what was happening half the time, I'm sorry I left Clarke, we were both in a bit of a panic mode."

Bellamy didn't say anything, just glared at him, and walked out of medical.  
"I'll talk to him, we can finish this conversation later," said Octavia, walking from the room. Lincoln wasn't far behind.   
Everyone else nodded and left, leaving only Marcus and Abby. 

"And then there were two," joked Marcus. Abby wasn't amused.   
"I'm sorry, Abby. It's just, fighting back is an act of war, and war isn't what we want. We've lost to many people as it is."

"But Marcus, look at what they did to you and your men."

"I know, I know what they did," he talked a little louder, his temper rising, "but like I said, we cannot afford a war or battle right now. If anything, we just make it clear that this is our land, and our people, and they cannot, and will not, fuck with us."

Marcus put his right hand on the wall to lay him down again, his anger getting the best of him. Abby stepped up to his side, putting her hand on his back, helping him. Once he was on his back again, he made sure to close his eyes, and take a few deep breaths.   
When his eyes opened again, he couldn't help but make a questioning face at Abby. 

"I love it when your mad, and to make matters even better, I know that Clarke is ok," she said, a smile on her face, and happiness in her voice. 

Marcus was stunned at Abby's words. He almost didn't believe she said them. He left Clarke, and Abby is ok with it? He could have brought her home, but he didn't, and she doesn't want to cut off her head?

"Oh, stop giving me that look, Marcus!" She laughed, "I know Clarke is ok, she's strong."

Marcus smiled, relieved that Abby was not angry. But, he did think Abby was cute when she was mad.

"You're bleeding through your bandages, I'll change them."  
Abby turned away and grabbed some bandages off the nearby counter, as well as a needle and thread.

Going back to Marcus, she gently helped him sit up again. It didn't take to long to unwrap the bloody rags on his back and chest. Some wounds were already scabbed over, others, continued to bleed. Marcus eyed the needle. Abby, seeing him sit in silent fear, laughed. 

"Marcus!" She exclaimed. 

"I'm sorry! really, really, sorry! But I don't like needles, period. Not sewing needles, not cannula needles! None of them!" Marcus argued. They both laughed together.  
Abby smiled at their conversation as she stitched him up. Marcus closed his eyes, his face whitening. 

"Are you ok?" Abby laughed.   
"Ah, no. I think I might pass out."   
Abby didn't doubt his words one bit. His face was as white as a ghost.   
"Ok, ok," said Abby, "I'm done for now."  
"Thanks"

After Abby replaced his bandages and cleaned up her work space. It was late. The winter cold seeped into the walls, as the wind howled. Marcus shivered, either from the cold, or the thought of Wolves. 

"You should get some sleep," said Abby

He was tired, he knew Abby was right. As she stepped closer, Marcus scooted closer to the wall lifting his blanket, making room for Abby. She took off her boots, and cuddled against him, his head resting on hers, and their hands intertwined. She was careful not to hurt his sores. 

"I love you."  
"I love you."

 

For the next few days, Abby changed and stitched Marcus's wounds. He only passed out once, which was actually quite good for him, But; it was also a little bit of Abby's fault. Maybe making him watch her wasn't the best idea. 

Every once in a while, Abby would allow him to walk the halls of the Ark. He got better and better at walking each time he practiced. His leg, was beginning to get better again. Abby knew how he felt, especially when her leg was bad, she pitied him. 

Marcus began talking to people more too. He was often stopped by Lincoln and Octavia, who always wanted to know if he was positive he could walk alone. He wasn't really sure why they cared but, of course he didn't complain. 

Bellamy had gotten over what happened as well. Even though he didn't ever talk to Kane much, he knew why Clarke didn't come back, so he had no problem forgiving Marcus. 

Wick talked to him a lot too. Him and Kyle had an surprising relationship. They respected one another, but; weren't afraid to joke with each other either. 

"Well Mr. Councillor," Wick joked, "I'm glad you didn't die in the woods, I would've had no way to claim your shoes!" 

"Nah, I though we went over this once before, Mr. Engineer! You can't live up to my style!"

Marcus found time to sketch again too. Mostly when him and Abby sat alone it medical, talking and laughing, occasional kisses being shared. She would watch him draw, be it her or nature. She loved them, and hoped he would continue to fill in the pages of his journal. It reminded her of Clarke. 

Marcus thought everything was going to be ok, that his wounds would heal and life would move on.   
What he didn't know, was that Hell had already began preparing to kick him in the ass again. 

The council planned to have a meeting over the Azgeda that night, Marcus having to attend, as usual.   
Abby decided that he would be fine to walk outside, get some fresh air. God knew he needed it. The camp was the same. People sat huddled by fires to stay warm, abled men and women chopped wood and made tools, Jasper and Monty made sure to keep up with the demand on moonshine, which everybody needed to stay warm this winter. People working in the meat houses were considered lucky. 

As Abby and Marcus walked around camp, shouting caught everybody's attention. 

"There! There! At the tree line!" A soldier shouted, "Grounders!"

The guards raised their weapons, but held their fire.   
Time seemed to pass in slow motion, the world felt frozen.   
A red flag waved right in front of Marcus's face. He recognized those Grounders. His stomach instantly became nodded. Fear struck him so hard, he felt his chest had been speared. 

"Don't shoot! don't shoot!" Abby screamed, the guards following her command. 

Marcus didn't understand what she meant, until he saw something that made him almost fall to his knees. Clarke followed the Azgeda towards the gates of camp, her hands bound.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus makes a decision that puts his life on the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a short chapter (for this fic anyway) but, next chapter is going to get heated.

Alone Chapter IIIIII

Abby couldn't believe it. Her worst fear was standing right before the gates of her own home. She looked at Marcus, but he did not look at her. He just kept staring at Clarke. The rest of camp was migrating towards the fence, looking out to see the intruders. The gunmen, held their bullets.

The Azgeda were intimidating, their frightening features defiantly something that wouldn't be forgotten easily. Their hair was decorated with white feathers, and their faces, white paint. The rest of their bodies were covered head-to-toe with armor made of bones. Abby didn't feel the need to ask where they came from. 

Their leader, a women named Nia, stood behind Clarke, holding her bonds. She didn't take her eyes off of Marcus, her eyes felt like they pierced his very soul. 

Her eyes snapped from his when Abby spoke, "why are you here?" She said, there was no emotion in her voice. 

The ice queen stayed silent for a few moments. Her eyes flicking back to Marcus, and then back to Abby. "We have something you want, and you have something we want." She said, almost in a sneer, "we're here for a trade. Marcus, for Clarke."

Marcus instantly went to stand by Abby, his hand brushing hers.  
"We accept the trade," he yelled, before anyone could say anything differently. He took a step forward.  
"No. Wait." Abby said, putting her hand on his chest to stop him.  
"What do you want with Marcus?"

"Him and his men killed four of my warriors. Now he must pay."

"What do you mean," Abby said as calmly as she could,"your warriors attacked first."

"Yes, because your men were on our land."

Abby became angry, but she did not let it show. She knew there had to be a way. To get Clarke, and Marcus, and secure peace with the Ice Nation. Abby was smart, and great at debates and persuasions. One thing was for certain though, she could show no emotion in this battle. 

"We just want peace," said Abby, "We didn't know we were on your land." 

"It is to late to form a friendship without blood shed. We can make a truce when he is dead," Nia pointed to Marcus. 

"I understand you are angry, but please, we can talk about this."

"There is no need for talking now, make your choice."

Abby felt a million eyes on her. They waited for her answer. But, she didn't have one. Her mouth felt as if it were sewn shut. She searched frantically for something to catch them with. Something that the Azgeda did to them that was equally harsh. But, she thought of nothing. Mount Weather was not Nia's decision, but Lexa's. 

Marcus took a few more steps forward, "open the gate," he said, looking to the guards. They slowly began to push it open. Abby snapped from her hypnotic state. 

"Marcus, wait," she said, grabbing his arm. 

"Abby," he argued, looking her in the eyes, "we are not getting out of this. It is time I answer for what I did." Marcus turned away from her, looking at Clarke, and then to Nia.  
"Give us Clarke first," he ordered. 

Nia didn't hesitate, she pushed Clarke so that she stumbled into camp. Abby caught her before she tripped to the ground. 

"Now you," said Nia. 

Marcus took a deep breath. He was scared, more scared than what he let show. But, it was the only way to not start a war. Besides, maybe he deserved it? It was his fault all those people died. Not just the men on their little trading mission, but; the 320 people on the ark, who were murdered, just so he could have a little more air. The way Marcus saw the situation, was that he had done some terrible things, and it was time to answer for his sins, once and for all. 

The camp was silent. Marcus looked at Abby, her dark eyes giving him a feeling of warmth. She held onto Clarke, who was not bleeding, but obviously sore from beatings.  
"Marcus," she whispered.  
He smirked, trying to give her a feeling of comfort.  
"I'll see you in another life, Abby."

She watched him as he walked out the gates. Oh how she wanted to tackle him, to trip him, to do anything to get him to not go. To close the gates of Camp Jaha right in front of Nia's face, with Clarke and Marcus safely inside. Abby was not afraid to start a war. However, instead, she held her ground. It was almost like a hand was grabbing her. So that she couldn't move even her arms or fingers, she was frozen. 

Marcus stood before the Ice Ruler. They both shared glances to each other.  
With a quick nod of her head, two of Nia's warriors stepped forward. One giving Marcus a punch to the gut, the other grabbing his wrists to bind them. He felt the wind being knocked out of him. He bent forward, clutching his stomach, before his hands were brutally tied. 

He faced the timbers, watching as the barren branches swayed in the wind. As they began walking, he turned his head, looking at camp one last time, looking at Abby. A small tear ran down his cheek. He never got to properly say goodbye. He's never going to see her again. Of course, that's what he thought when he was dying in the woods only a week before. And yet, by some chance, he came home. He turned his head to face forward again, dropping his thought of ever returning again. 

Abby watched Marcus disappear into the forest. Her face red with anger. They took Marcus from her, and no one takes something from Abigail Griffin without her consent. She was going to get him back, even if it killed her. 

She turned to Clarke, looking at her in the eyes.  
"I'm sorry mom. I didn't mean f-" Clarke was cut off by her mothers voice.

"Clarke, do not be sorry for something you cannot control." 

"I know but, mom it's my fault. Kane is dead, and the Azgeda are still going to probably start a war."

"No," said Abby, sounding now more determined and angry than comforting and loving, "Clarke, follow me to medical, I'll get you cleaned up."  
Clarke did as she was told and followed Abby.  
"Bellamy, Lincoln, Octavia, I need you to take Jackson and Sinclair into the meeting room," said Abby, stopping by where they stood.

"Why? What are we talking about?" asked Lincoln, confused on why they were going to hold a meeting now. 

"We're getting Marcus back," was all Abby said, as she and Clarke disappeared into the Ark. 

 

 

Clarke was more bruised up than anything. Only a few bandages were needed on her arms. Neither Clarke nor Abby said much as they sat alone in medical. Abby didn't know what to feel. Happy at the fact that Clarke was back, or Angered and Saddened that Marcus was going to die. 

Bellamy came into medical, looking at Abby, "everyone's ready in the meeting room."

"Thank you, Bellamy," said Abby. 

"If you don't mind," Bellamy went on, "I'd like to talk to Clarke?"

"Of course, just meet us soon, and make sure Clarke rests."

Bellamy nodded, and moved from the doorway to let Abby through.  
"Mom," Clarke said, making Abby turn around,"I love you." 

Abby smiled, relieved to hear those words from Clarke. If Marcus didn't still linger in her mind, she would easily be crying tears of joy.  
"I love you too."

They smiled at one another for a few moments, before any turned away.

Bellamy looked at Clarke with a relieved expression. She jumped from her chair, and flung herself onto Bellamy. They stood embracing one another, cherishing the moment. 

"I'm just glad you're ok," said Bellamy. 

"I'm just glad I'm not Kane," she said to him. They both smiled, knowing it was a dark, but humorous joke. 

They let go of one another, taking in each other's looks. Neither of their appearances were changed much. 

"Where did you go?" Asked Bellamy. 

"Who cares, I'm back, and it feels good."

"So you forgive yourself?"

Clarke hesitated, "no," she said, "but I've just learned to forget about it from time to time, even though it still comes back, it's enough to live here."

 

Abby made her way to the meeting. Hoping Clarke and Bellamy wouldn't be taking to long. But, then again, she knew they hadn't seen each other in ages. So, she didn't really care to much. If anything, right now, she just wanted everything to be ok. For Clarke to be home with Bellamy, leading the camp, and Marcus to be home with Abby, so they could love each other forever. 

Seeing a peek outside, she noticed a lot of people had dispersed. Some still lingered by the gates, talking. She wondered what the people would think if Abby went out to save one man. She soon decided, why should she care? She was determined too get him back, and that's all that mattered.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby enforces her plan; Marcus is tortured again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done! There will pry be only one or two more chapters :( anyway, hopefully you like the chapter, feedback is always awesome! I'm happy where this is going!

Alone Chapter IIIIIII

"So what is this meeting about Abby?" Asked Sinclair. 

Abby couldn't tell if it was an actual question, or more of a way to get on with the point. 

The whole council, besides Marcus, met in the council room as they were told. Bellamy and Clarke came in a little late of course.   
Abby figured she would get on with the point, wanting to go after Marcus as soon as she could. 

"I want to go after Marcus."

Jackson almost spit out his water, "Abby,"he said, "we don't want a war, and going after Kane is defiantly going to start one." 

"I agree with Jackson," said Octavia, "we don't want a war."  
The rest of the council nodded, except Abby. 

"Fine," she said, "what did Marcus do when the kids were trapped in Mount Weather, and we were basically at war with the grounders?" she began to enforce her plan. This was going to turn into a guilt trip real fast.   
"He went to the trikru, risking his life, almost killing himself, for his people." 

The room stayed silent. Nobody wanted Marcus to die but, nobody wanted to start a war either. 

"Please," said Abby, "Do for him what he would do for you."

"If we do go after him," said Sinclair, "who would go?" 

"It depends on the number of warriors Nia brought with her. I want to catch them on the road, it won't be as big of a fight."

"She only brought three warriors to the gates," began Clarke,"she left seven in the woods. That makes eleven warriors including Nia."

"You're certain?" Asked Lincoln. 

Clarke shook her head.   
She remembered the warriors running at her with weapons drawn. Her life flashed before her eyes. She didn't really know why she helped Kane. Redemption? Trust? Because he was one of her people? She didn't know, and she didn't care. What's done is done, just like Mount Weather. 

"Ok," said Octavia, "all in favor of going after Councillor Marcus Kane, say 'Aye'"

"Aye," said the council together. 

"All those opposed, say 'Nay'."

The room remained silent. Everyone looked at Each other with tired eyes. 

"Ok," said Abby, "let's get on with the plan."

 

 

The sun began to sink below the horizon, its reaching hands making shadows dance across the timbers. There were no birds, no crickets. Not the tiniest hint of life. The grounder in front of Marcus held his chains like a leash. 

Left. Right. Left. Right. Marcus didn't focus on the beat of their steps, instead, he focused on Abby. He never let her face leave his memory, in fear he may forget what she looked like. He wanted to melt the bonds that held his wrists, and bash the heads of every grounder that forced him away from his love with his own hands. He was done playing this game of life and death. If he was going to die, he wanted to get it over with. 

The grounders walked fast through the woods, their pace never changing. Marcus's back and chest hurt but, what could he do? Politely ask the grounders to stop? No, he was their prisoner now, one word from him, and he could be back to the tree. 

Marcus knew their camp had to be at least two days journey, he wondered when they would stop. Sunlight was beginning to fade. Surely they wouldn't be walking thought the night. 

As if they read his mind, Nia stopped in a small clearing, "we rest here for the night." 

The Warriors dispersed, resting on the ground, drinking from their canisters, and making fires. Marcus's watcher pulled on his chains, bringing him to a nearby tree, and tying him to the trunk. 

He had nothing to do but sit and wait, watching as the sun disappeared below the horizon. The only light now was the flickering of the fire. A few grounders emerged from the woods, a few rabbits at their belts, supper. 

Once they began cleaning the meat and roasting it over the fires, Marcus closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be getting any food. It wasn't too long before he drifted off into slumber. The cracking of the fire and the clicking of the leaves in the wind helped calm him. 

 

A blow to the head awoke Marcus with a jolt. He touched his jaw, making sure it wasn't bleeding or broken. However, another blow to his core made his hands go to his stomach. Two pairs of hands grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet. His hands remained bound, and the chain hooked to the tree. 

One grounder grabbed Marcus's hair, pulling his head back. He gasped as his scalp was viciously pulled.   
Nia and a few others sat by the fire, watching the warriors. It was like she was their mother, and Marcus was their toy.   
The strongest looking grounder sent blow after blow to Marcus's stomach and chest. Each hit opened his wounds more and more. Blood began to soak into his shirts fabric. By the time the grounder stopped, blood ran from Marcus's mouth as he coughed. His core felt like it was going to explode. 

"tie em up better, teik's don some fun (tie him up better, let's have some fun)" said the biggest grounder. Marcus thought his name was Sako but, he wasn't for sure. 

His friends nodded, releasing Marcus's hair and pulling the chains. His feet stumbled back. Forcing Marcus's hands above his head again, they tied the rusted chains around the tree a few more times, making sure he wouldn't have a chance to get away, or break free. 

His position brought his mind back to mount weather. How he had to watch as Abby was harvested, and he stood by, unable to do anything. He was glad Abby wasn't here, to watch him as he screamed into the winter night. 

Sako unsheathed his knife, coming so close to Marcus, he could see the murder in his eyes. He placed the knife between Marcus's skin and shirt, on his shoulder. With a quick flick of his wrist, he cut Marcus's shirt, repeating the process on the other side, so that his shirt was completely torn from his skin. 

'So much for staying warm,' thought Marcus. 

Sako again took his knife, and laid it down on Marcus's shoulder, pressing down, the knife sunk into Marcus's flesh. Droplets of blood flowed down his ribcage. As slowly as he could, Sako dragged the knife diagonally across his chest and stomach. Marcus moaned in pain again, clenching his eyes closed. He let out a few small, quiet, screams as the knife slowly glided over some of his previous scars. Once it reached all the way down to his opposite hip, Sako moved the knife up to his other shoulder, and repeated the process. Marcus showed the same reaction, wanting this god forsaken night to be over. When the grounder was done, a bloodied 'X' was painted on Marcus's skin. 

"There, a perfect target," hollered one of the Grounders from the fire, the others laughed.

"Come on now, Sako, let's hear his screams," said a female warrior. 

"Don't worry, Nivea, I'll be sure Camp Jaha can hear his squeals," replied Sako. 

"Hold on," said Nivea,taking a knife from her belt, "I wish to make at least one cut on his hide."

Sako nodded his approval, stepping out of Nivea's way. She didn't wait to make a slice. Digging her knife immediately into Marcus's wrist, blood squirted from his popped and broken veins. He screamed as she traced his basilic vein. All the way down, blood gushed and oozed from his skin. It fell down his arms like rain would on a window. 

His throat burned from his voice. He could feel the blood wetting his arm. She didn't stop at his shoulder. Nivea kept the knife trailing done his ribcage, pushing it deeper into his skin. He could feel the blade slice his ribs. His screams grew louder as more and more blood oozed from his flesh, a few droplets coming from his mouth. Only once Nivea reached his pant line did she stop.

Marcus thought it was over, that she was done playing this terrible act. But, she wasn't. Taking her weapon, she readied her knife on his other wrist, preparing to repeat the process. Tears drained from Marcus's eyes, and a few droplets of blood escaped his lips. Again, slowly, and painfully, Nivea popped his veins, blood flying onto her face, and into Marcus's black hair. He screamed again, his throat weakening, he could taste the blood. Finally, after a few agonizing minutes of the knife in his body, did Nivea reach his pants. 

"Why don't we remove his pants, then I can trail it all the way down to his toes," she said.

"No Nivea, then he'll die of cold before we get to have any fun with him."

She nodded in agreement. Realizing she'd rather have some more fun with him before they had to cut off his head in a few days. 

Bringing the knife to her mouth, Nivea licked the blood from the blade. Marcus shuttered at the sight, as he moaned in pain, his breathing jagged. 

"My turn," said another grounder, taking a whip from his pack. 

Nivea and Sako moved, letting the grounder stand a few feet from the tree. Marcus wasn't prepared when the whip came crashing down to his skin. He jolted, hollering in pain, and surprise. Again and again, the rope tore his flesh. Each time, droplets of blood would come off the whip, splattering Marcus and the tree he was tied to. His moans turned to yells when the whip hit his raw, fresh scars. The Grounders laughed at his screams. 

"I'm finished here," said the grounder with the whip. Turning from the tree, he walked back to the fire. He set the whip in his hand, pulling it through, removing the blood.   
Deciding to take it out on Marcus's back next, they turned him around. His raw skin digging into the trees rough bark. 

For the next hour, Sako, Nivea, and other Grounders, took their turns striking Marcus with fatal blows to his back with whips. Blood gushing from his back like a waterfall. He didn't think anything, didn't see anything. All he felt was pain and blood as it trailed down his skin. 

"I think we've had enough fun for one night," said Sako, backing away. He turned Marcus around, getting ready to loosen him from the tree, when Nia stopped him. 

"Wait," she said, "I want to hear him scream by my hand."   
She sat up from the fire, taking a shield she had set in the flames with her. Moving from her way, Sako knew it was going to be good. 

Marcus looked up the moment she pressed the shield into his stomach. He screamed louder than he ever had before, clenching his eyes tight. Tears streamed from his eyes. The hot metal making his flesh burn and blister. It was almost as if his skin has burned onto the shield. Nia pulled it from his stomach with brutal force. Marcus's head bowed to the ground, his screams quieting to painful, agonizing whimpers. As his legs fell from under him, he gave into the pain. His vision darkened once again. The smell of burning flesh, filling his nostrils.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus is rescued, again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is sadly coming to an end T-T   
> There will pry be two more chapters. But anyway, thank you all for reading 8 chapters of my fic so far!

Alone Chapter IIIIIIII

"No, Clarke," said Abby, "you can't come."

"Mom, I know the route they took, I can take you there."

"No, Clarke. I'm not loosing you again."

"You won't loose me! I'll just go and hide in some nearby bushes until it's done." 

"And what would happen if a rogue shot went to where you were sitting?"

Abby looked at her with defeated eyes. She didn't have an answer quick enough to comeback at her mother. 

"That's what I thought," said Abby," I love you Clarke, I'll see you in a few days."  
Abby leaned to kiss Clarke's forehead. 

"Just be safe, mom." 

Abby smiled and turned away, ready to set out before the sun disappeared, it's rays falling through the horizon. Abby had managed to get Lincoln, Octavia, and Bellamy to come. As well as 5 other soldiers.   
As the group exited through the gate of Camp Jaha, Abby began to speak.  
"Remember, this is a rescue mission," she said,"we're there to get Marcus. We will only kill the grounders that are left if they are still a threat."  
Nobody said anything but, she knew they heard her. 

The sun sank farther and farther down. It's rays making shadows dance on the forest floor.   
Left. Right. Left. Right. Abby didn't focus on the beat of their steps. Instead, she thought about Marcus. How determined she was to see him again. She was going to see him again. She wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. 

"Will we stop tonight?"asked Bellamy, "We may not be able to reach them by the time they get home." 

"No, we won't stop," said Abby, "We have to keep moving." 

The group pushed on through the cold night, their packs seeming to grow heavier at each step they took. 

 

It had been hours since the sun had set below the horizon, and still, there was no sign of the Azgeda, or their camp.   
'Perhaps we should stop for the night,' thought Abby. She pushed the idea from her head. She decided to focus on her reward if she didn't stop, Marcus. 

She didn't know how it evolved into this. A simple, week long trading mission, now a full blown war? There was just no end to this Hell on Earth. Abby really did want to cry. To go back to the Ark, hold Clarke in her arms and sob. What was she doing? Stopping a war? No, she was creating one. Her mind told her it was foolish to go after this man. But, her heart said yes. And for once in her life, logic was not the side Abby stood on. 

The night was freezing, the wind hit their faces, making them numb. Other than that however, the night was quite peaceful. There were no birds or crickets, of course, but, there was the rustling of the leaves that left a peaceful sound in everyone's ears. It was quickly replaced with a painful scream making everybody stop in their tracks. They stared at each other with worried, and fearful expressions. Abby however, stared in the direction of the yelling. 

"Marcus," she whispered. 

Fear suddenly hit her like bullets. He could be dying? Getting tortured? She couldn't be too late. She didn't just trek through the coldest night of the year to find out she was to late. His screams died. Leaving the timbers silent once more. 

"Cmon," said Bellamy, motioning forward with his hand, "we should quicken pace."

Lincoln stopped him, "wait, we need to trek carefully. We don't want to be heard approaching." 

"He's right," said Abby. She scanned her surrounding, "I have an idea." 

 

§₩§

 

Bellamy raced quietly through the underbrush, he could see the flickering of the fire ahead. It was quiet, the only sound that pierced his ears was the cracking of flames, and the rustling of leaves.   
"Cut the chains, get Marcus. Cut the chains, get Marcus," he whispered under his breath to himself. 

By now he could see the fire, and the grounders that lay around it. There were eight total, including Nia. That meant three were on watch, just as they had suspected. Bellamy found the tree Marcus was tied to, as he was told. His dark surroundings and shadows from the fire blinded him. He could make out Marcus's figure but, nothing more. 

He inched his way behind the tree, leaning against its trunk as he sat curled on the ground. He noticed something on his jacket. It gleamed as the fire light hit it. Wiping it from his clothes with his fingers, it was to dark to see what it was. He decided to ignore the strange liquid. Bellamy awaited his que. 

With time to think, Bellamy began thinking of Clarke. It was almost a day dream, too good to be true. He pictured her golden hair, flowing in the wind. As her soft hands grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He wanted more than anything to be with Clarke again. For everything to be normal and happy. Then they could live their lives together, growing old. 

A cooing sound brought his mind back to reality. He could hear Lincoln's call from across the small clearing. Another coo, more high pitched, echoed to his right. He recognized the voice to be Octavia's. The guards were dead. One less obstacle to ignore. 

The shuffling of feet to his left made Bellamy turn, his hand on his gun. Abby looked at his through the trees, her face showing no sign of fear, but determination. Bellamy nodded, standing from his position at the tree. Lincoln and Octavia followed behind them. 

He slowly inched his way around the trunk, careful not to make much noise. Abby followed his steps. As Marcus finally came into full view, Bellamys heart felt as if it had dropped. Blood was everywhere. It clicked in his mind what the strange liquid was on his coat.

Abby was traumatized. Her heart raced and her fists clenched together, her nails digging into her skin. It took everything in her not to cut off Nia's head as she slept. His whole stomach was mutilated and red. His arms were caked in dried blood, as well as his chest. She was sure his back was no different. 

Abby immediately went into doctor mode. Bending down to undo the chains that were bound on Marcus's wrists. They were raw and bleeding from the metal rubbing his skin. A small moan escapes his mouth. Abby, relieved he wasn't dead, looked to his face, which was splattered in blood. 

She took her hand, carefully opening his eyelid to see his pupil. Closing it again, she took another look at his chest. Octavia and Lincoln kept watch on the sleeping grounders. Making sure they were not awoken. 

"We need to get him back to camp," said Abby, "he's bleeding out."

Lincoln and Octavia peered behind their shoulders at Abby. Seeing Marcus's wounds for the first time, Octavia held her breath. She could almost feel his wounds on her body. Lincoln, however, made no change in emotion. Almost as if he had seen this kind of torture before. 

Bellamy put his hand carefully on Marcus's back, pulling him up from the tree. Octavia moved to help him, grabbing his legs. 

"Abby," whispered Lincoln.  
Abby stood from Marcus's side, moving to where Lincoln stood.   
"We need to get out of here, we have no time to build a stretcher."

"Then we'll carry him." She said. 

Lincoln starred at her, motionless. He never understood what Abby saw in Kane. Why she didn't just give up. But then he thought of Octavia. What he would do for her if she was in Kane's position. He nodded, agreeing with Abby. 

Stepping in front of her, he went to Marcus's side, picking him up bridal style.   
"Let's go," he said, motioning towards the tree line, towards home. 

Octavia, Bellamy, and Abby followed his lead, leaving the clearing, where the grounders still lay sleeping. The five soldiers left in the woods stood as they say Lincoln emerging from the brush, Marcus in hand. 

They looked at Abby with a questioning look, wondering what to do. She motioned towards home, and looked at the ground once more. 

Marcus was in their hands, and that's all that mattered. Abby thought it was stupid of her to not bring a walkie talkie. She had to prep for surgery as soon as she could. Marcus was dying, but he had come to far to die now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus undergoes surgery, and Abby is left weeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola! A new chapter is up, yay!   
> And don't worry, I will most likely have the last chapter up by today as well! Enjoy

Alone Chapter IIIIIIIII

 

"We're almost there, just a few more miles," said Octavia,"we should be there in an hour."

Lincoln continued to carry Marcus, occasional moans escaping both their mouths. Bellamy asked to help, being denied several times. He finally gave up, figuring Lincoln would continue to be stubborn. 

"Will, Matt," said Abby, calling two guards over to her side," I need you to run to camp, tell Jackson to prepare for surgery." 

"Yes, chancellor," they said, and nothing more. They took off in a light jog through the woods, making their way to camp.  
'We should have brought a radio,' thought Abby. 

They continued their hike through the woods, Abby never leaving Marcus and Lincoln's sides. She watched over Marcus carefully, making sure his chest continued to move up and down. 

"He'll be ok, Abby," Lincoln said, reassuring her. 

She had to smile at his attempt to make her feel better. It could only help but a little. Lincoln has made sure she was comforted. He respected Abby In a way, as well as Kane. They were his fellow councillors as well as friends.

The last hour of their trip felt the longest. Each step Abby took forward, she felt she was being pushed back. She wasn't even thinking, her mind was blank. An occasional recount of what had to be done to Marcus when finally home but, otherwise, her brain refused to function. She stared blankly ahead, only snapping from her trance when Lincoln tried to comfort her. Marcus's pain was her pain. 

Finally, after what felt like eternity, the bright lights of Camp Jaha came into view. A sigh of relief silently escaping all of their mouths. Everyone picked up their paces, they didn't have to be doctors to know that Kane was in serious condition. 

As they entered camp, many looked away, not wanting to see the bloody wounds. Some, sat with questioned faces. Abby wasn't sure what they were puzzled about, they could easily fit the pieces together. She didn't think to much of it. 

As Abby and Lincoln entered medical, Jackson sat at his desk, going through papers. 

"Jackson?" said Abby in question and disbelief, "why aren't you prepared for surgery?"

"What do you mean?" He said, looking at Marcus's limp figure,"No one told me."

"What do you mean? I sent two soldiers ahead to tell you, they never came?"

"No, they didn't, Abby," both their faces were mixed with worry and question. 

"We'll worry about it later," said Abby, her knob turning from chancellor to doctor. She quickly walked to the operation table, getting some tools out from under it. Lincoln put Marcus down carefully on the platform. Jackson was busy washing his hands, and suiting himself in the proper attire for a surgery. Once he was finished, him and Abby switched jobs. Abby quickly geared up, leaving Jackson to set out their equipment. 

"We're gonna have to stitch and close several wounds, as well as remove some particles from several others. I need blood, O neg."

Jackson nodded as he prepared the anesthesia, moving to prepare the blood soon after. They were lucky to find a whole warehouse full of medical supplies in mount weather, including anesthesia. 

Once Marcus was set up, the anesthesia kicking in to make sure he didn't awaken, Abby and Jackson began to work. They started by immediately putting water onto Marcus's burns, making sure the water kept dropping steadily into them. It took nearly an hour to remove all the Rock and bone shards that managed to become loose in his wounds from the whips. Another three just to stitch his scars that ran up his arm and down his ribcage. Not to mention stitching the lash marks on his back, as well as the smaller cuts that littered the rest of his body. There was however, nothing Abby could do for his burn marks. Once they were done with cleaning him up, they stopped the water from flowing onto his wounds, and wrapped his stomach with sterile bandages, as well as his chest. His arms were not wrapped due to the stitches, but damp clothes were gently laid atop of them. 

"You should get some rest, Abby," said Jackson, taking off his bloodied apron. 

"Not now," she said, focusing on cleaning the medical tools. 

"Abby, you haven't slept in over 24 hours, the sun has already risen."

Abby looked out the window, lately noticing the suns rays streaming into the room.   
She ignored Jackson, walking over to the cabinet, putting away several tools. 

"Please, Abby?"

She looked at him with tired eyes. But, she didn't feel tired. She just felt worried, scared. 

"I'm fine, Jackson. You get some rest, I'm gonna wait in here until he wakes up." 

Abby dragged a chair over to where Marcus lay. Jackson watched until she was situated next to him, a few papers in hand to go over. She was his boss and, he was forced to do what he was told. With a sigh of defeat he went from the room, leaving her in privacy. 

Abby sat, going over papers and working around medical. She never left the room. In fact, she had everything she needed. There was food for when surgeries went longer than expected, a restroom in the far back, and all her work was organized in the cabinets around her. She knew it wasn't very chancellor-like but, Bellamy and the others can easily run things. 

 

As the day went on, Abby became more and more tired and sleep deprived. She caught herself dozing more than once. A few people had come in to check on her throughout the day, waking her from her mesmerized stare. Sometimes, she'll hear Marcus's voice, snapping from her sleepy state to look at him. Only to find out it was just her imagination, and he was still asleep. Finally, as the sun began to set below the horizon, she set her papers and work aside, and went to sit down next to him. Still, even as she sat tired next to him, something felt wrong, different. She reached out her hand, grabbing his, and holding it tight. As if she let go, they would be separated forever. It wasn't long before Abby dozed off into a peaceful slumber, Marcus's hand in hers. 

 

§₩§

 

Abby's eyes slowly opened, her hair in the way of her face. She looked out the window, the sun was just beginning to rise but, was hidden beneath dark clouds. She noticed there was no feeling in her right hand. Looking over, she saw Marcus's hand was squeezing hers, making it numb. No doubt he was doing so in pain. Abby knew he hurt, badly, but he was now hurting her. She pried at his fingers, loosening his grip. She stopped when she saw his eyes flutter open. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a few moments, before turning his head to look at his hand. 

"Abby," he whispered, so quietly she almost didn't catch it. 

She saw that he was looking at their hands, watching as their fingers remained intertwined. Marcus noticed the tight grip he was giving her, and slowly loosened it. Abby watched him with eyes of relief, grateful he was ok. 

He moved his gaze from their hands to Abby's face, looking over all of her features, until he met her eyes. Abby wanted to cry, his eyes were so dark, and empty. Almost as if the warm fire she once saw in them was put out by the cold winter wind. 

"Abby, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice quiet and croaky, "I'm sorry for everything I did and I-I'm," his voice trailed off, he turned his head, looking away.

Marcus's eyes darted in every direction, his face was almost confused looking. Abby moved her free hand to his face, which only had but a few cuts and scrapes. She gently nudged his head towards her, whispering softly, words of comfort. 

"Hey," she said, catching Marcus's attention,"I'm here, I'm right here." Her soft, soothing whispers calmed him.   
"I am not going to forgive you, because there is no reason for me too," she said, a small tear falling down her cheek from her eye. 

"I love you, Marcus Kane. And I always will, no matter what stupid thing you go and do," she leaned in, kissing him softly on the mouth. 

He looked at her for a long time, before closing his eyes again, asleep. Once he was, Abby let all her tears loose. She wept at his bed side, letting all her emotions escape. She prayed to God no one came in to see her like this. 

'He's ok, he is going to be fine,' she repeated in her head. She cried for what felt like hours, until she couldn't cry anymore. Marcus was going to be ok.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus comes to terms with what has happened, and moves on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read my fic, and especially Aileen_ONeill for editing and giving me ideas that I quite frankly really needed. I'm sad to say this is the last chapter but that's ok, I'll just start a new one!

Alone Chapter IIIII IIIII

Marcus was one hell of a patient. Everyday he asked if he could get up. And when refused, tried to do so anyway. Abby didn't know how many times she had to re-stitch his wounds. It got to the point where she had to threaten to give him a shot of water if he didn't stay in place. That got him to stop, a little. 

His wounds were healing nicely and properly, he would most likely only be in bed for two weeks. Then he would most likely be fine to walk. But as usual, he's stubborn. That's how he got himself into this mess anyway. 

He asked a lot of questions too. The most popular being, "have the Azgeda come yet?"   
Abby had the answer but, was reluctant to give it to him. 

 

It was a few hours after she wept over Marcus. Bellamy and Lincoln came into medical, seeking Abby. 

"Abby, what are we to do about the missing guards?" Asked Lincoln worriedly, "people who watched us enter camp were confused when there were only eight people returning, instead of ten."

Abby immediately stopped what she was doing. The guards, she forgot about the guards. She turned to face them. She knew they all knew the obvious answer. 

"The Azgeda will show up soon, most likely with Matt and Will with them. I don't know what we're going to do but, we'll figure something out."

"Abby," said Bellamy, "there's going to be a war sooner or later."  
He was wrong. 

Instead, weeks went by and still, no one came. Not the Azgeda, not the guards. There was only one possibility,  
The guards were Marcus's replacement. 

The thought made Abby shudder. What has she done? They were her people yet, she let them die, to save someone else, who has killed so many. She tried to pretend it never happened. She waited, day after day, for the Azgeda to come strolling up to the gates. She didn't know what she'd say if they did but, she just wished it wasn't true. 

Abby knew if she told Marcus what happened, he would go ballistic. He'd probably marched out to the Azgeda's village himself. She knew guilt would make a permanent home in him. And it'd never leave. 

He was already depressed as it was. The light in his eyes, it was still gone, missing. Abby wanted to cry every time she saw them. She wanted to yell and scream at him, ask him why he was like this. But she couldn't, because she already knew the answer. 

Everything he's done, everything he's been through. It was just too much. He's forgiven himself for what he's done before but he can't do it again, or so he thinks. Marcus wasn't the only stubborn person in camp, Abby had plans of her own. There was nothing she could do for the guards now. The one thing she could do, was to help Marcus be himself again. 

The two weeks were almost up, and Marcus grew antsier and antsier as the hours progressed. Abby even thought he had a countdown, which amused her greatly. When the day finally came, he tried getting out of bed immediately. Abby was more nervous than a whore in church, watching as Marcus stood for the first time in weeks. 

He kept one hand on the wall for balance as he began to walk, a small limp in his steps. He went over to a small chest that was on the opposite end of the room. He opened the lid, snatching a new shirt, and his jacket that he never had the chance to grab before he was taken away. After he had his shirt and coat on to hide his bandages, he turned to face Abby. 

"Thank you, Abby," he said. 

Abby smiled as she looked up at him. A silence settled in the room. After a few moments, she stepped forward a little closer, and unexpectedly wrapped her arms gently around Marcus's stomach, careful not to hurt his sores. He wasn't surprised by the gesture, and he embraced her back without hesitation. They stood like they did for a long time, not wanting to let go. 

Finally, Abby pulled back, looking at him again. 

"I love you."  
"I love you." 

 

At night, Abby checked in on him as he slept. The nightmares always came early, his own screams waking him from his shallow slumber. More than once, Abby gladly climbed into the cot with him, stroking his hair as he caught his breath. 

"I'm-I'm sorry, Abby. I didn't mean to scream, I'm sorry," he would repeat, over and over again as he tried to catch his breath. Abby only shushed him, his apologies being unnecessary.   
Then, they would fall asleep like that, in each other's arms. When they did, Marcus's nightmares seemed to stop. 

Almost every night, Abby has caught Marcus sitting by himself, staring blankly at the fire. He looked so sad, lonely even. It was as if he was alone in the world. She tried to sit with him, to strike up a conversation but, it never worked. He only responded quietly, with short answers, then continued to stare out into nothing. 

Abby didn't know what to do about it. All she knew was it had to stop, she didn't want him to turn out like Jaha. One day as she sat in medical, a particular book caught her eye, Marcus's journal. She knew exactly what would help Marcus snap from his insane state when she saw it. 

That night, she found Marcus in his usual spot. With his book and new pencil in hand, she sat down beside him, watching as he continued to look at the flames, his eyes tired looking. 

"Here," said Abby as she put the book in front of Marcus, "I found it in medical."

His eyes went from the fire to his journal. He watched it for only a second before his eyes shot up to Abby's. 

For a moment, Abby felt frozen, she saw something. There was a spark in his eyes. It flickered for only a moment. His look was warm, loving almost. She felt there was even a hint of hope in them. 

He gave her a smile. It was small, but it was a smile, and she hadn't seen his In ages. She couldn't help but smile back, as she handed him his book. 

He opened to the farthest page, and began to sketch something. Abby watched him for a little as he drew. She still couldn't see what he was drawing, even after 30 minutes of watching. She stopped watching when she fell asleep, her head falling to rest on Marcus's shoulder. 

Abby awoke just before daybreak, confused on where she was. Looking around the room, she saw she was in her room, also known as medical.   
"I thought I fell asleep outside," she said to herself. 

"You did," said Jackson from the corner,"Kane carried you in last night."

She jumped at his voice as it caught her off guard, "oh, Thanks."

"Don't thank me," he said, "thank Kane."

She smiled at his tone of voice before hopping out of bed, and heading outside. She saw most everyone was at breakfast, everyone except Marcus. She sighed, getting to eat was a daily chore, one she didn't always complete. 

She went to his tent, stepping in without knocking. He was sitting at his makeshift desk, asleep. Abby couldn't help but laugh at how his head lay on the table. Once she was finished she went over to where he sat. Under his fingers, she could see his journal. Carefully grabbing it, she slid it from under his hand, cautious not to wake him. 

She flipped through the pages, looking again at each drawing. She loved to look at Clarke and his works, they were both so pretty. However, there was one drawing that almost made her drop the book. It was the drawing he was working on the night before, the one Abby couldn't make out. 

It was Marcus, nailed to a tree. However, the main view of the sketch was of a hand holding a whip. No doubt it was the hand of a grounder. Abby stared at the picture for awhile longer before closing the pages. Her plan seemed to have sort of backfired. But, she of course had other plans.   
She set the book down, pretending she never saw it, and went to awaken Marcus. 

Gently, she laid her hand on his head, softly pulling him from him sleep. His eyes opened slowly as he blinked a few times, before lifting his head up to look at Abby. 

"Morning," she said, "let's go outside, you need to eat." 

"I'm good for now."

"Marcus, I'm not doing this with you again. Either you come and eat, or I will tie you up, and force it down your throat." 

"Try me." 

Abby glared at him. Staring him in the eyes. That faint glow she saw earlier was still there, but she was too pissed off to linger on the thought. 

"Fine," she said, "but I will be getting you back, mark my words." 

Marcus smiled at her, he loved it when she was angry, especially when it was directed toward him. 

Abby turned around and went from Marcus's tent. It wasn't until after she had gotten food, and sat down at a table did she think back to what had happened. She remembered now his eyes, they still had that warm spark in them. And his face, he was actually smiling. It was just the picture that made her doubt what she saw. 

'What gives him inspiration?' She thought to herself. It didn't take her even 5 seconds to know what gave him inspiration. That afternoon, Abby was planning for a walk. 

§₩§

"Please Marcus, just a short walk," Abby pleaded," I promise nothing is going to happen."

"You can't prove it."

"Yes, I can. If you come with me, I can prove we're going to stroll back into camp, perfectly fine."

"Look, I trust you Abby but, I'm scared. Alright, I'm still scared. But I do trust you. With my life even!" 

"Then if you trust me, why will you not come?" Abby asked. 

"Because I'm afraid that they'll catch me again. That I'll be back on the tree. And even worse, you might be there with me."

Abby knew he was scared, and angry at himself. But, he had to leave sooner or later. 

"Marcus, if you want to get better, you have to leave camp. If you go with me I promise, you won't be scared anymore."

He thought for a few moments, not knowing which option to choose. His thoughts were obvious, and Abby could see them unfold in front of her. Finally, Marcus nodded, and walked with Abby to the gates. 

"Here," she said, giving Marcus his book, "Just in case you find inspiration." 

"Thanks," he said, taking the book from her hands. 

Marcus held his breath as he took his first steps out of Camp Jaha. He thought about turning and running straight back, but he stopped himself. He trusted Abby, he was not to let fear overcome him. 

"So, where are we going?" He asked 

"I was thinking the lake, the sun is going down, I thought it'd be nice to watch the sunset." 

"Good idea."

The walk to the lake was a stretch but, only took maybe 30 minutes if you were quick enough. Abby and Marcus had managed to reach the lake a little before sunrise, giving them time to find a nice place to watch it fall from the sky, and disappear behind the mountains. 

A thick, tall log sat along shore, eight feet from the water. It was a perfect spot for rest. Once Abby and Marcus were both situated on the ground, their backs lying against the bark, they stared out over the frozen lake. 

"See," said Abby, grinning and breaking the silence, "this wasn't so bad." 

Marcus looked at her and gave her a mournful smile. Abby instantly became concerned. Marcus looked to the ground, focusing on the millions of multi colored rocks spread out in front of him. Abby watched as he rolled the sleeve of his jacket up, ever so slightly, revealing the first few inches of his scars. 

He looked at them for a few moments, studying the light skin. It wasn't long before he began to cry. He let all of his emotions loose at once. He leaned his head back, covering his face with his hands, he wanted to scream.

"Marcus," Abby said, trying to catch his attention, "Marcus."

She took his hands from his face, looking at his red eyes, and wet cheeks. She could almost hear her heart break. 

"Marcus," she said, resting her forehead on his, "Marcus listen to me. You're ok, everything is ok." 

He continued to cry, tears slowly running down his face. 

"Marcus, what's wrong?"

He looked at her for what felt like an eternity. Their eyes never leaving one another's. Finally, when he was ready to, he spoke. 

"I-I'm scared," he said, "I feel alone, I feel like I'm-I'm cracked glass, being pounded and pounded, over and over again. Abby, I'm... I'm getting ready to shatter. I don't know how many more days I can go, looking at these scars. Everyday I see them, and everyday I remember how I got them. It just hurt so much, Abby."

Abby didn't know what to say, how to respond. Never had she ever imagined a man like Marcus Kane, suffering from something like this. She finally found her words, as Marcus's tears began to slowly stop. 

"Marcus, it's ok. You can do this, I know you can. You will get through this. I'll help you get through this, I promise. Please just, don't think about the past, think of the future. Of the happy lives we will continue to live together."

They kept each other's gazes, their foreheads still resting together. Marcus didn't say anything, just kept looking at her. Abby moved her lips closer to his, kissing him. Marcus kissed softly back.   
As they parted, they both turned their heads to face the setting sun, Abby's head resting on his shoulder, and Marcus's head resting on hers. They looked out over the frozen waters, watching as the sun set lower and lower, it created an explosion in the sky. It was the most beautiful sunset either of them had ever seen. 

"Ok," said Marcus,"I'll try." 

Abby smiled as she heard his soft voice, listening to his strong heart beat. She knew together, they would get through this. 

As the sun finally disappeared beneath the mountain tops, the northern lights began to dance around in the sky. Their colorful glow reflecting off the clear ice. Marcus and Abby held each other close as they sat together, watching the beauty of the world around them, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're reading this, you've successfully finished reading "Alone".


End file.
